


Blue

by moonlight_mist



Series: Fairy Tail One-Shots [4]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Cute, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, and doing homework, hghnnnn i love stingue so muchhhh, i may fail my art project because i wrote this but it was so worth it, im crying, just a teeny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_mist/pseuds/moonlight_mist
Summary: The first time Rogue wished he could see the color blue, he was four.When Rogue finally saw the color blue, he was nineteen.This is everything that happened in between.-----Or: Five times Rogue wished he could see the color blue, and the one time he finally did.





	Blue

The first time Rogue wished he could see the color blue, he was four.

Learning colors from a dragon was a strange endeavor, but Skiadrum really was trying. The Shadow Dragon took the young Slayer around, naming the different colors of the nature surrounding them.

It went smoothly- even at age four, Rogue was an incredible learner- until Skiadrum pointed to the sky with a claw and said, “The sky is the color blue.”

Little Rogue frowned, looking up at the sky. He then glanced at the rock in his small hands, the one his father had labeled as “gray.” 

“Aren’t they the same?” He said, pointing at the rock and then the sky. The two objects held almost exactly the same shade of color.

Skiadrum’s eyes had widened slightly, and he’d explained that no, they weren’t the same- which, of course, lead into the very long and slightly awkward conversation about soulmates.

A soulmate, Skiadrum explained patiently, was someone who the universe created to be perfect for you. Until you kissed them- when Little Rogue asked what a “kiss” was, Skiadrum had simply responded, “You’ll learn when you’re older,”- you couldn’t see the color of their eyes.

So Rogue’s soulmate had blue eyes. Little Rogue frowned, looking up at the gray sky again.

It looked so bland. He wished he could see blue.

\------

The second time Rogue wished he could see the color blue, he was six, already burdened by pains most adults could never bear.

He’d been walking for days. Well, walking was a stretch- the word “wandering” fit his current state better. 

He could still remember Skiadrum’s dying breath, the way he’d pleaded with Rogue to kill him. 

The way claiming his foster father’s life had felt.

And so he wandered, as far as his tiny legs could carry him, until he passed out from hunger in the middle of nowhere and tears slipped out of his carmine eyes.

The cold sky offered no consolation. Rogue could see the vague outlines of puffy white clouds, so he supposed the days must have been beautiful, but to his eyes alone the sky remained a desolate gray.

He couldn’t cry- he hadn’t drank recently enough for that. When was the last time he’d eaten? Did it matter? Did anything?

The gray sky stared down at him, a cruel mockery of happiness he couldn’t reach. 

There was no comfort to be offered here.

He wished he could see blue. Maybe then, he’d feel a little bit better.

\------

The third time Rogue wished he could see the color blue, he was seven.

He’d managed to find solace in a relatively large town, one where most people wouldn’t really bat an eyelash at a young child alone on the streets. He’d even managed to create a small little fort in a back alleyway, made of raggedy moth-eaten blankets people had left in their garbage and an old cardboard box. 

He’d only been staying there for a few weeks before he started hearing rumors- rumors about a little blonde boy who fought for money and never lost. 

Not that he particularly cared. He usually only went out at night anyway.

One night, he was perched out in his little fort, staring out the small hole he’d left in order to be able to see out. It wasn’t too late- the moon was still relatively low in the night sky. 

He was just thinking that maybe he’d go out and grab some food from a trash can- his supplies were running low- when another kid stumbled into his alley and collapsed against the wall in an exhausted heap.

Rogue knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only homeless kid in the town, but this boy was in  _ his _ alley. He’d staked a claim over it, and a little bit of Shadow Magic was all it took to scare any other potential inhabitors away.

He heaved an internal sigh, then pulled himself out of his fort and crouched down in the shadows of the alley.

It didn’t seem like the other boy had heard him. He wasn’t looking in his direction at all, sitting on the cold ground with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

Rogue took a deep breath, then drew the shadows of the alleway around him. They curled into smoky tendrils, which swirled around him like serpents. Combined with his torn-up clothing, messy black hair, and visible red eye, he knew he looked pretty creepy, especially for a seven year old.

He took a few steps forward. The other boy’s head shot around so fast that Rogue could  _ feel _ his neck cricking, and he winced internally.

“Get out of my alley,” He said.

The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and he bolted to his feet, his hands coming up in a fighting stance. Rogue’s eyes narrowed into slits. Most people would have run by now- he wasn’t sure whether the boy was brave or stupid.

The boy sniffed the air. Rogue’s eyebrows furrowed, but he instinctively did the same. His eyes widened.

“You smell like dragon,” The two boys said at the same time. 

Rogue dropped the magic, returning the shadows to their original forms. He stared at the blonde boy who smelled so heartbreakingly familiar, like scales and talons and home.

“Who are you?” The whisper fell from his lips, but he could tell the other boy had heard it.

“I could be asking you the same thing,” The blonde said with a blinding grin, crossing his arms. His hair was  _ really _ bright, Rogue noticed. Not quite yellow. Golden, maybe.

The golden-haired boy held his hand out, still grinning. “I’m Sting. White Dragon Slayer!”

Rogue stared at his hand for a moment before placing his own slowly upon it, shaking the strange boy’s- Sting’s- hand. “Rogue,” He answered softly. “I’m the S-Shadow Dragon Slayer.”

“That’s so cool!” Sting placed his hands on his hips. “I’ve never met another Dragon Slayer before!”

“Me neither,” Rogue answered honestly. To be quite honest, he’d barely been aware that there  _ were _ other Dragon Slayers. Skiadrum had mentioned it a few times, maybe, but Rogue had been doing his best not to think about Skiadrum for the past year.

“Well, Rogue,” Sting swung his arm over Rogue’s shoulders, which was a gesture that Rogue would usually hate but found himself surprisingly fine with, “I think we should work together! Think of how strong  _ two _ Dragon Slayers could be!”

Rogue smiled softly. “Yeah.”

He glanced up at Sting’s face, looking at his eyes. He was a bit disappointed to discover that they were merely a flat gray color- the same color as the sky. He’d come to recognise that that indicated blue eyes.

Sting’s gray eyes didn’t go well with his golden hair and blinding smile. He wished he could see blue.

\------

The fourth time Rogue wished he could see blue, he was thirteen.

The Twin Dragon Slayers were out on a job. Most would say thirteen was far too young for them to be out a large job without adult supervision, but “most” didn’t really apply to Sabertooth.

They’d finished the job without too much trouble: just a couple of scrapes, which they’d taken the time to patch up for each other. Jiemma never reacted well if they came back to the guild in a condition anything less than pristine.

The job had actually taken them a little less time than expected to complete, so they’d elected to hike back instead of taking the train (Sting hated transportation even more than Rogue did, which was saying a whole lot).

When night crept in, they’d made camp under a canopy of trees. Their exceeds had gone to sleep next to each other, Frosch snuggling up into Lector’s warmth in a way that warmed Rogue’s heart.

He smiled softly as he watched Lector snore. 

“They’re cute, eh?” Sting’s teasing voice caught his ears. He knew the Shadow Dragon Slayer had a soft sport for Frosch.

“Done with your hour-long bath?” Rogue snarked back, twisting around from where he was sitting to look at his best friend.

His breath caught in his throat. Yeah, he’d seen Sting shirtless plenty of times, but there was something about watching the water droplets from Sting’s bath in the nearby lake run down his bare stomach, which was already muscled despite his young age, that sent heat directly to Rogue’s face.

It also sent heat somewhere else, but he chose to ignore that.

Sting raised and eyebrow. “Enjoying the view?” He teased, striking a ridiculous pose.

Rogue rolled his eyes, hoping it would disguise the flush in his cheeks. “You wish.”

_ Damn it, what’s wrong with me? _

He’d been feeling weird around Sting for weeks, and he was pretty sure he knew why. It was a terrifying thought. Who knew what Jiemma would do if he discovered the thoughts in Rogue’s head?

Better not to think too hard about his urges. They were too dangerous.

Despite that, his stupid body didn’t seem to get the memo.

“Do you ever think?” He began, not looking at Sting.

“Hmm?” His friend sat down next to him. “About what?”

“What it would be like.” He stared at the ground. “You know. If we weren’t in Sabertooth.”

He felt Sting stiffen next to him. The Shadow Dragon Slayer was aware that he held much more trepidation towards Sabertooth than Sting did, but he also knew that Sting wasn’t happy in Jiemma’s guild. Hell, Sting had suffered more by their Guild Master’s hand than Rogue had. 

After a tense moment, Sting let out a breath, shoulder sagging in a defeated manner. “It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s not like we can leave.”

Rogue nodded sadly, leaning his head on the blonde’s shoulder as they stared at the night sky. “Still. It’d be nice to be free.”

“To do what?” He could feel the vibrations when Sting spoke.

Rogue laughed slightly. “I’d buy as many outfits for Frosch as I could.”

He felt more than heard Sting’s bark of laughter. “I’d stuff myself! Goddess, I haven’t had a good meal in  _ forever. _ ”

“You just ate,” Rogue reminded him, pointing towards the remains of their last meal.

“Yeah, but, like… warm food. Like… an entire roasted pig. With another roasted pig inside of it. Ooh, and maybe some chicken as well!”

Rogue smiled softly as his friend rambled on about food next to him. When he tilted his head up, he could see Sting’s eyes. The dull gray, that stupid color that must have  _ been _ blue only Rogue couldn’t  _ see _ it, made him frown.

_ If we were free, I’d be able to love you with everything I had. _

He wished he could see the true color of Sting’s eyes, the way they sparkled when he was excited or teared up when he thought Rogue couldn’t see him.

He cursed the universe for depriving him of this: of keeping this one secret of the world, of  _ Sting _ , hidden from him. 

Goddess, he wished he could see blue.

\------

The fifth time Rogue wished he could see the color blue, he was eighteen.

Once he’d gotten most of the initial Guild Master paperwork out of the way, Sting had finally caved to their guild members’ increasing demands to give them a vacation. And so now, for the first time, Sabertooth was having fun together on the beach.

Rogue watched as Minerva spiked a volleyball at Orga, a grin which wasn’t even slightly maniacal or sadistic lightening up her entire face. Their Lady would never have looked like that even a year ago. 

Sabertooth really had changed, hadn’t it?

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Sting plopped down on the sand beside Rogue.

Rogue rolled his eyes. “Surprised you’re not taking this opportunity to show your volleyball prowess.”

Sting shrugged. “I think they can survive without me for one match.” They both winced as Yukino brutally smashed the volleyball into Rufus’s face. Minerva pecked the beaming celestial wizard on the cheek. “Assuming they don’t kill each other first.”

Rogue watched as the girls vs. boys beach volleyball match resumed, in all its intensity. “We really have changed, huh?” He said softly.

Sting smiled. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his golden hair.

“It’s all your doing, you know.” Rogue turned his gaze to the White Dragon Slayer. “You saved Sabertooth.”

“We all did,” Sting argued. “I just took the lead. We all wanted to change, we just didn’t know how.”

Rogue nodded, smiling slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he reach out, intertwining Sting’s fingers with his own. 

A thrill went through him when Sting didn’t shake him off, but instead squeezed his hand. Rogue leaned his head on Sting’s shoulder, just as he had done all those years ago, when they were just scared kids doing their best to survive.

Rogue stared off at the horizon, a line caught between two gray expanses. He’d heard many people talk about the beauty of the sea; how the crystal-blue water and azure sky was stunning to look at.

He thought it was beautiful too, but not because of the color. No, instead it was because of the carefree shouts of his guildmates, of Sting’s hand wrapped around his own, and of his heart feeling lighter than ever before.

Still. The lack of color was a bit disconcerting, try as he might to shove the thought from his mind, to appreciate what he had. 

He wished he could see blue.

\------

When Rogue finally saw the color blue, he was nineteen.

He’d taken a solo job, hoping to sort out his thoughts, which had been racing as of late.    
  


Specifically, ones concerning a certain Dragon Slayer.

When he’d been younger, it had been easy to dismiss his feelings toward Sting with excuse such as  _ “it’s just platonic and you’re affection-starved!” _ or  _ “Jeimma would kill you if he ever found out, so why bother?” _

But now he was nineteen, with plenty of platonic relationships that  _ didn’t _ make him feel like Sting did and no Jiemma to hold him back, and it was becoming a whole lot harder to lie to himself.

Rogue yawned as he walked into the guild after a long week of being alone with his thoughts. He got a couple of hellos, a couple of raised eyebrows at his outfit (he’d forsaken his usual cloak and worn a black tank top, too tired to bother with feeling self-conscious), and a couple comments about how “your boyfriend is waiting for you!”

Rogue rolled his eyes at that, though a part of him- an increasingly large part of him- found him wishing Sting really  _ was _ his boyfriend. 

Frosch bid Rogue goodbye, running off to talk to Lector, who was sitting on the bar next to Yukino. Lector’s presence meant Sting was here. Rogue couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

However, when he poked his head inside of Sting’s office, expecting to see a familiar blonde head of hair, all he saw was Minerva, sighing as she went through the Guild Master’s paperwork. She glanced up when she heard him come in.

“Minerva?” Rogue said, crossing his arms. “What happened to Sting?”

Minerva rolled her eyes, a fond expression on her face. “The idiot overworked himself again. We sent him home after he fell asleep on his desk for the third time in an hour.”

  
“Thank you,” Rogue said. He knew better than anyone that Sting suffered from being Fiore’s youngest Guild Master, especially with the overload of paperwork (50% of which was from when Rufus and Orga went overboard on a job and destroyed private property).

“No problem,” Minerva said, making a mark on a paper. She gave him a shark-toothed grin. “Now go home and fuck your boyfriend.”

Rogue’s face flushed bright red at her words. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he muttered.

“Mmhmm.” Minerva’s cackle followed him as he stalked out of the guildhall and towards the apartment he and Sting shared. 

The walk back was silent, which left Rogue alone to ponder Minerva’s words. The guild had a running joke of calling Rogue and Sting boyfriends, but Sting had never really indicated that he wanted the rumor to become a reality. Or had he?

That was the issue with Sting: he and Rogue had been friends for so long that boundaries between them already barely existed, meaning it was so hard to tell what Sting meant as friendship and what as romantic.

But there was no denying that Rogue  _ did _ want to ****fuck  Sting. The thought made his face glow red and heat pool in his lower stomach. He bit his lip, tasting blood as his fangs pierced through the delicate skin.

Rogue pushed open the door to their apartment with his elbow, tightening his ponytail with his hands. He glanced up, and  _ oh, goddess. _

Sting had clearly just been in the shower, because his skin and hair was still dripping wet. He wore nothing but pajama pants, which gave Rogue an exceptionally good view of his abs. _Fuck._

On the other hand, he didn’t miss Sting’s gaze roaming over his body. His tank top left his arm muscles and collarbones out for the world to see, and he could tell that Sting was staring. The thought sparked a warm feeling in his chest (as well as between his legs). 

“Hey,” Sting said.

Rogue gulped. There was enough sexual tension in the air for him to cut with a knife. “Hey,” He breathed, shutting the door behind him.

“How was your job?” Sting asked.

Rogue nodded. “Good. Not too hard.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other. Goddess, Rogue wanted to kiss him.

Sting’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and Rogue realized belatedly that he’d said that last bit out loud.

Then Sting nodded his head and said, “Do it, then.”

Rogue crossed the room, stopping in front of the Dragon Slayer. His stomach was twisted into knots, but he raised his hand and cupped Sting’s cheek with it.

“Can I?” He whispered, heart pounding.

“Hell yes,” Sting answered, and- well, Rogue needed no further prompting.

The kiss started out chaste, just a slight touch of their lips. But it wasn’t long before Sting had wrapped his arms around Rogue’s waist and deepened the kiss, and then Rogue’s hands were tangled in Sting’s perfect golden hair and everything felt so incredibly right.

Rogue had thought Sting’s lips would be chapped, but they were so incredibly soft and Rogue wanted  _ more _ .

His nibbled on Sting’s lower lip. A thrill went through him upon hearing the groaning noise the blonde made. He felt Sting’s tounge in his mouth, and it was like the world had stopped spinning, like time had narrowed down to just that moment.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Rogue looked into Sting’s eyes and almost collapsed.

Sting’s eyes weren’t gray.

No, they were the most beautiful color he’d ever seen; a color more deep than night and yet more bright than the sun, and Rogue was left wondering how he’d lived without it all his life; a color that could only have been blue.

“Holy shit,” Sting breathed. “That’s  _ red? _ ”

And Rogue laughed and laughed and kissed him again, because  _ goddess _ , he and Sting were  _ soulmates _ and finally, finally he could see blue, could see the sky and sea and Sting’s eyes.

After so many years of wishing he could see blue, he couldn’t help but feel it was worth the wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hghnnn I'm crying please send help
> 
> I've never written anything Stingue before. I've actually not even gotten to the point in the anime where they are introduced yet, because sue me, that shit is 150 episodes in and I'm on episode 73, goddamn it. 
> 
> But, since little things like not having actually seen the characters in canon and basing everything off of personal headcannons or shit I've read in other fics has never been able to stop me before, here you go. Have some possibly OOC Stingue. I did my best.
> 
> Aight. Mist out.


End file.
